


The Aftermath is Secondary

by Kliegology



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Band AUs are Good for the Soul, Band Fic, Coming Out, Drummer Diego Hargreeves, First Kiss, First Time, Fiveya if You Squint, Groupie Klaus Hargreeves, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Twink Klaus Hargreeves, kind of, pogo is human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-07 13:04:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18873757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kliegology/pseuds/Kliegology
Summary: Diego doesn’t approve of the whole sleeping with fans thing. Generally speaking. But when a cute twink, all laced up in leather, starts hanging around, he decides it might be reasonable to make an exception. Maybe.“We’re having a moment,” Klaus said, awestruck. “A. Moment.”





	1. Chapter 1

The Vigilantes were not well known for good behaviour. It wasn’t uncommon for fans who waited around outside the stage door to end up back in the tour bus. Usually they’d smoke a few joints, play video games and then send them on their way. But sometimes things got out of hand and one of the fans would still be around in the morning, sporting love bites on their neck and looking like all their Christmases had come at once. Diego didn’t really go in for that. The girls were usually a good few years younger than them, and he found their advances amusing rather than arousing. If one of them wanted to sit in his lap for an evening, then that suited him just fine. But he didn’t want the hassle of kicking them out of bed the next day. He’d leave that to Luther.

The night of their first gig in Toronto, they were smuggled in through a fire door by their new manager, Pogo, who was keen to keep them at a distance from a group of teenage girls waiting hopefully at the other side of the venue. Pogo had been employed by Academy Records to keep an eye on them during the tour. Between Five’s alcohol abuse and Luther’s endless stream of girlfriends, they’d been making a few too many headlines for the wrong reasons recently. The man was short but stocky, surprisingly strong, and more than capable of dragging them away from situations they weren’t supposed to be in. Irritating though this was, Diego had liked him immediately.

Sound check that night was a disaster. Pogo had disappeared to answer a call, and Five was taking the opportunity to flirt mercilessly with one of the girls on electric violin, repeatedly missing his cues as a result. At eighteen, Five was the youngest of their group by six years, and he looked even younger. The violinist seemed a little alarmed by his attempts at seduction, hiding her face beneath a sheet of long dark hair and focusing steadfastly on her music.

Luther grew steadily more frustrated as the rehearsal went on. A little under an hour had passed before he had the younger man in a headlock, growling at him in frustration. Diego took the opportunity to escape for a smoke, using the same door they’d entered by in the hope that he might get a few minutes peace.

He stepped through the fire door, hand already pulling a pack of smokes from his pocket, and then froze.

A young man in obscenely tight leather pants was lurking outside the exit. When he saw Diego his kohl-rimmed eyes practically rolled back in his head, mouth dropping open. He pressed his hands together and mouthed _thank you_ at the heavens. His shock of dark hair looked like it hadn’t been brushed in weeks and his pants were held together by elaborate lacing, running from his ankle to the top of his thigh, revealing a long strip of bare skin beneath.

Diego shoved the pack of cigarettes back into his pocket and reached out a hand to catch the door that was swinging closed behind him. It shut with a defiant clang just as his fingers reached it. He growled and twisted the handle, shoving his shoulder against the metal. It didn’t budge.

“Oh, hey, no…” the young man said, watching him trying to escape with a concerned expression. He reached out a hand to tentatively touch Diego’s arm, his fingers petting at the material of his jacket. “It’s okay, I’m not crazy.”

“Sure, you’re not.” Diego thumped a fist against the door in frustration then dragged his phone from his pocket. He fired off a quick text to Pogo, requesting rescue. Turning back to face the fan, he retrieved his cigarettes from his jacket pocket, figuring he might as well get a smoke in while he waited. He took a deep drag and then cleared his throat, eyeing the young man warily. “So you want an autograph or something?”

“Yes please,” the boy said. He tugged at the lacing of his leather pants. “Can you sign my thigh?”

Diego reached out and batted at the boy’s hand before he could unfasten any clothing. “Woah, hang on,” he said, averting his eyes from the flash of bare leg. “I’ll sign your arm instead.”

The boy made a small squeaking noise when Diego fastened a hand around his wrist. He was wearing a black, long sleeve shirt with giant lacy cuffs, which Diego pushed up past his elbow. While Diego scrawled his name on the pale skin, the kid leaned in to the contact. Despite his unkempt appearance he smelt of soap and a sweet perfume that reminded Diego strongly of strawberry laces. When Diego looked back up, they were millimetres apart. The kid’s unnaturally glossy lips were parted, his cheeks flushed pink and his eyes slightly glazed.

“Well…’ Diego took a step backwards, and found himself trapped against the fire door. He banged a fist into it again, a little half-heartedly this time. There was something endearing about the boy, with his long, skinny legs and wide green eyes.

“You’re my favourite,” the kid told him, running a finger reverently across the name scrawled over his skin.

“Yeah?” Diego grinned against his will. People didn’t usually spare much attention for the drummer. Luther had always been the fan favourite, blond and well built; he was the lead guitarist and had a gruff but soulful singing voice. And the younger girls liked their bassist, Five, for his sharp tongue and his baby-faced good looks.

“Yeah,” the boy said breathlessly. His eyes were flickering up and down Diego’s body. “I really like your arms.”

“Um, thanks,” Diego pulled his jacket around himself tightly and crossed his arms against his chest. “You coming to the show tonight, kiddo?”

“I’m _nineteen_ ,” the boy said, pouting. “And no. I had an arrangement with a guy who said he could get me tickets if I… anyway. He couldn’t get them in the end.”

At that moment the door behind them opened, a grumpy looking Pogo standing behind it. He took one glance at the kid in his lace-up leather pants, and pulled Diego forcibly back into the venue.

“I’ll put you on the guestlist,” Diego told the boy, shaking Pogo’s hands off him. “Name?”

“Klaus,” the boy said, his eyes lighting up. He moved to follow them inside the venue, only to be blocked by a thick, hairy hand to the chest from Pogo. “Oh… okay. See you later, Diego.”

Diego grinned, turning back to look over his shoulder as Pogo frogmarched him away down the corridor. As the door swung closed behind them he caught a glimpse of Klaus reaching down to pick up his discarded cigarette from the ground, an expression of pure reverence on his face.

…

Diego scanned the crowd from the stage that night. They’d had their customary tequila shots before the show, and he was feeling the beginnings of a pleasant buzz. The lights made it difficult for him to see anything of the crowd, and Luther kept swaying around in front of him, the man’s bulky frame blocking his line of vision. From what he could see the front row was made up predominantly of girls in dark clothing. He thought he caught a glimpse of pale arms in lacy sleeves hanging over the barriers at one side of the stage, but it was too dark to tell for sure if it was Klaus. He smashed out a solo with uncharacteristic vengeance- earning him an annoyed glower from Luther- and wondered why he was even looking for the boy. Klaus had clearly been completely mad.

The set wasn’t one of their best. Five spent most of it at the side of the stage with the dark haired violinist, who seemed to be warming to him, lowering her instrument to talk to him between songs. Diego had been inconsistent and distracted. And Luther got steadily grumpier as the night went on. The audience didn’t care. They liked Luther’s surly demeanour and enjoyed Five’s cheek. As for Diego, he was hidden behind a drum kit, and no one ever noticed if the drummer missed a beat. They left the stage to a cacophony of catcalls and screaming, but found Pogo waiting for them, arms crossed and shaking his head in disappointment.

“Not your best performance, Master Diego,” he said, clicking his tongue.

Diego grinned, Pogo’s tendency to speak politely increased the more annoyed the man was. “You put that kid on the guestlist, right?” he said. “Klaus?”

The man nodded, watching him through narrowed eyes.

“Cheers, man,” Diego slapped him appreciatively on the shoulder and slunk off to join the rest of the band in the dressing room. Five’s violinist had disappeared, much to the younger man’s disappointment. He was sitting slumped on the leather couch, chugging from a bottle of beer. Luther handed Diego a bottle as he entered.

They spent a lazy half hour in the dressing room, drinking beer and changing into hoodies and sweatpants to stave off the winter chill. It was past midnight when Pogo arrived to usher them back to the tour bus. Diego hung back as the man pushed the others out through the stage door. Outside there was a riot of flashing phone cameras and excited shouting. Diego waited until the three men were over the threshold and then kicked the stage door closed behind them, turning on his heel and jogging back to the fire exit on the other side of the venue.

 

...


	2. Chapter 2

Klaus was reclining against the brick wall outside, cast in the stark white light of a security lamp which flickered on and off above his head, affording him a pale, ghostly appearance. He had his arms wrapped tightly around his chest and appeared to be shivering slightly in the cold. He stood up straight as Diego emerged, eyes lighting up. Diego used his foot to nudge a stone into the doorway behind him, lodging the fire door open in case he needed to make a quick escape.

“Oh, hi, Diego,” Klaus said, as if he were surprised to see him there. He raised a hand to his curls and mussed them up artfully.

Diego lit a cigarette, stamping his feet on the frozen ground to shake off the chill of the night air. He offered the pack to Klaus and the man took one, taking great care to brush his hand against Diego’s as he did so.

“Did you like the show?” Diego asked. He moved closer to light the younger man’s cigarette, cupping his hand around the man’s jaw to keep off the wind.

It took Klaus several seconds to answer. “Oh!” he said, as Diego moved his hand away. “Yeah, you were great. Although I think we both know you overdid the solo.”

Diego coughed as Klaus smirked and blew smoke directly into his face. “Cheeky fucker,” he said.

“You like it,” Klaus said. The chattering of his teeth undermined his sultry tone. He seemed to draw in on himself as a cold wind swept over them, his narrow shoulders tensing beneath the flimsy material of his blouse. The voices of fans at the other side of the venue were carried towards them on the breeze.

Diego shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around the younger man’s shoulders, careful not to make any direct contact. “You’ll freeze, kiddo.”

“I’m _nineteen_ ,” Klaus repeated, in the tone of someone trying to convey something very important. He pulled Diego’s jacket on, tugging the collar up around his throat and breathing in deeply as he did so.  

Diego stared. “Did you just smell that?” he asked, unable to stop a bubble of laughter escaping as he did so.

They were interrupted by the sound of loud giggling and hurried footsteps.

“Have you tried around here?” a young girl’s voice called, from just around the corner.

Diego didn’t hesitate before kicking the fire door back open and pulling Klaus through it. He slammed it closed behind them, dislodging the stone propping it open with a well-aimed kick.

He pressed a hand to the small of the boy’s back and guided him down the corridor, hesitating briefly before pushing him into the unlit dressing room and locking the door behind them. When he turned around, back pressed to the door, Klaus was millimetres away from him, watching him with dark eyes. He moved in, reaching out a hand to wrap around Diego’s neck, tongue flicking out to wet his lips.

“No,” Diego ducked, avoiding the embrace, his stomach rolling over. He hurriedly reached out a hand to flick on the light. “No, I just need you out of sight. Pogo will have a fit if he finds you in here.”

“Oh. Whoops,” Klaus said, wincing in the brightness. He turned away from Diego and began to inspect the dressing room, eyeing the empty bottles and scrunched up chip packets. “I think it was the way you manhandled me in here and then locked the door behind us. Silly me. I got the wrong impression.”  

“Yeah. You did,” Diego said. He took the last two beers out of the fridge and threw one at Klaus who caught it neatly. “You can stay for one drink then I’m kicking you out.”

“Okay,” Klaus twisted the lid off his beer and lifted it slowly to his mouth, watching Diego with wide eyes. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Diego sunk down on the sofa and focused on his drink, letting Klaus talk at him as he continued to snoop around the room, filling him in on everything from his preferred flavour of pop tart to his favourite of Diego’s stage outfits. The man eventually tired of exploring and sat down at the dressing table, running a hand longingly over the makeup littering the surface before beginning to apply eyeliner.

Diego watched him in the mirror, admiring the man’s steady hand as he rimmed his wide green eyes in kohl. Klaus caught his eye in the glass and smiled slowly, lifting a finger to blend the liner into a smoky effect.

“Shall I do yours?” he offered.

Diego shook his head. He’d always felt like a bit of dick when wearing makeup. “Nah, it looks better on you.”

“That’s because you’re not doing it right,” Klaus sighed, moving over to sit next to Diego on the couch. He lifted his hand and tilted Diego’s chin up, lifting the eyeliner pencil to hover in front of his face. “I can make you look hot.”

“I thought I _already_ looked hot,” Diego said, blinking and turning his head away as Klaus moved in with the pencil. The man was pressed tightly against his side, one hand splayed across his chest.

“Mm. Could do better,” Klaus said, lifting his hand from Diego’s chest to cup his face, holding him still.

Diego froze as the man leaned in to swipe liner across the bottom of his lash line, unwilling to move in case he got stabbed in the eye. Klaus finished his left eye and then moved even closer as he reached across to do his right. Diego lifted a hand to try and push the man away, but found it curving around his wrist instead, holding him in place. He slipped one finger under the lacy cuff of the man’s sleeve, grazing the cool skin underneath. Klaus lowered the pencil slowly, leaning in until their lips were nearly brushing, their breath intermingling in space between them.

A knock at the door caused Diego to hurriedly push the man away. Klaus fell back against the opposite end of the couch, looking slightly shell shocked.

“Master Diego?” Pogo’s voice rang through the door. “Are you in there?”

Diego instinctively pressed a hand against Klaus’s mouth, whose eyes widened at the gesture. Diego shook his head minutely, lifting a finger to his lips. They sat in absolute silence for several long seconds, before they heard the sounds of Pogo’s footsteps rescinding down the corridor, and Klaus sucked Diego’s index finger into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Diego gasped, taken by surprise. He lingered too long, as the boy circled the digit with his tongue. When he pulled his hand away, Klaus was watching him knowingly, a smirk hovering on the corners of his lips. “You don’t play fair, do you?”

Klaus shifted closer and swung a leg around to straddle him on the couch, legs pressed tightly against the outside of Diego’s thighs. “Are you trying to keep me a secret, Diego?”

The man’s lips were wet and shining from where he had been sucking on Diego’s finger.

“Fuck it,” Diego muttered, gripping him around the waist and hauling him in, crushing their lips together.

Klaus seemed to freeze in his grip, his mouth going utterly slack. Diego opened his eyes, pulling back just far enough to see the younger man staring at him, wide eyed in shock.

“Uh, sorry?” Diego said, wondering how he could possibly have misread the signs. His finger had been in the man’s mouth less than a minute previously. He shifted uncomfortably under the man, leaning forwards on the couch in an effort to get him out of his lap.

Klaus’s hands hit his chest with force, shoving him back into the couch cushions. Diego’s grunt of discomfort was swallowed by the mans’s mouth, which collided with his own in an uncomfortable clash of teeth, their noses bumping awkwardly together. Klaus made a desperate moaning sound against his mouth, fingers fisting in the material of Diego’s tshirt, and then running abruptly up his neck and into his hair. He tugged insistently, almost painfully, hands running through the short strands. Then he moved impossibly closer, pushing their chests together as he shifted his hips insistently, lifting several inches out of Diego’s lap in order to rub his crotch up against his stomach.

It felt a lot better than Diego had expected, making out with a fan, good enough to bury the undercurrent of guilt deep in the back of his mind. Klaus seemed _hungry_ for him and it was intoxicating. The man kept making little ‘mm’-ing noises against his lips. Diego pushed his hands under the man’s blouse, running his fingers along the sharp ridges of his prominent hipbones.

“Oh wow,” Klaus pulled back from the kiss to stare at him, his lips swollen and red. He glanced down to watch Diego’s fingers trailing over his skin. “Oh wow, wow, wow.”

“You’re killing the moment,” Diego complained, pushing his hands further under the blouse to continue exploring the man’s stomach and chest. He hadn’t kissed another man in years, and he relished the heady feeling of angular planes of muscle beneath his fingers

“We’re having a moment,” Klaus said, awestruck. He released Diego’s hair and ran his fingers down the sides of Diego’s face, before rubbing them back up, against the grain of his stubble. “A. _Moment_.”

“Yeah,” Diego said, breathing heavily. He could feel Klaus’s erection pressing against his stomach, straining against the tight leather of the man’s trousers. The sensation was unfamiliar, but not at all as unpleasant as he thought it should be. “I shouldn’t have done that. We should stop.”

“But…” Klaus gaped at him. “I’ve barely got started.”

“No,” Diego said, the clattering of roadies in the corridor outside brought him to his senses. Someone rattled the door handle and they both jumped. A voice cursed at finding it locked and the footsteps retreated. “We should definitely stop. Pogo’s gonna send out a search party.”

“Ok,” Klaus agreed, his hands returning to Diego’s hair. He leaned in to mouth at Diego’s throat, trailing his lips up his neck before grazing his earlobe between his teeth. “You stop. I’ll keep going.”

Diego stood up abruptly, lifting the man with him and standing him in the centre of the room before taking several steps back. “Stay,” he said, ignoring his own arousal. He needed Klaus out of this dressing room before they ended up doing something stupid.

Klaus pouted at him, lips still wet and swollen from kissing. His eyes fell to the distended fabric at Diego’s crotch, and Diego immediately regretted changing into sweatpants after the show. The man’s gaze lingered there for several loaded seconds before he looked back up to meet Diego’s eye from under thick, black lashes.

Averting his eyes, Diego awkwardly sidestepped the man to reach the door. Leaning down, he peered through the keyhole. The corridor outside appeared to be deserted.

  
Diego turned around, focusing on the carpet. “How are you getting home, kiddo?”

Klaus sighed heavily. “Dunno,” he said reluctantly. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, tugging indiscreetly at the tight leather of his pants. “Bus?”

“I’ll walk you to your stop,” Diego said, averting his eyes.

He unlocked the door once he was certain the coast was clear. Klaus allowed himself to be guided out of the room and down the corridor. They slipped out of the fire door and found the space outside, mercifully, deserted. Night had settled fully, the sky a velvety blanket of black, dotted with stars. The silence was complete, save for the occasional drone of an engine from the road nearby. It was freezing cold, and their breath misted in the air. Klaus had pulled Diego’s jacket back on without asking before leaving the dressing room, and he drew it tightly around himself to stave off the chill. Diego resigned himself to the likelihood that he wouldn’t have the heart to ask for it back.

“Which way?” Diego asked, gesturing for Klaus to lead. He allowed the man to link their arms together, glancing around to check they were alone.

“Um,” Klaus looked left and right as they reached the road, pressed firmly against Diego’s side. He pointed uncertainly into the distance. “That way?”

“You’ve got somewhere to go, right?” Diego said, stomach lurching at the realisation that Klaus, actually, might not.

“Oh, yes,” Klaus nodded confidently. He glanced up and down the road again. “Yes, I can find someone to stay with.”

“Woah, no you don’t,” Diego said, fastening a firm hand around the man’s arm. He pulled him away from the road and back towards the parking lot where the tour bus was parked, ignored his own disquiet. They had a spare bunk and, if he was lucky, he could smuggle Klaus in while the others were still out looking for him. “Come with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 will go up Monday evening! Thanks for reading! ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

Klaus beamed at Diego as he opened the door to the tour bus. Ignoring the man’s delight, Diego poked his head in cautiously, looking out over their cramped living area. Five was asleep on the couch, wearing a pink feather boa around his neck and cradling an empty cocktail glass, snoring softly. There was no sign of Luther or Pogo.

“Oh, wow,” Klaus murmured, following him in without waiting for an invitation. He crossed over to the couch and peered down at Five. “He looks much nicer when he’s sleeping.”

Diego gripped the man’s upper arms and hurried him away down the bus, ushering him into the sleeping area. He pulled open the curtain to the spare bunk and was met with the sight of Five’s dark haired violinist, fast asleep on top of the covers and clutching Five’s bass to her chest.

“Oh, shit,” Diego muttered. Klaus had pressed in behind him, his arms sneaking around Diego’s waist and pushing under the fabric of his tshirt. Diego rested a hand on the frame of the bunks, bracing himself as his heart skipped a beat, arousal stirring low in the pit of his stomach.

The sound of the tour bus door opening caused him to turn around at speed. He grabbed Klaus and lifted him off his feet, bundling the man into his own bunk and closing the curtain behind him.

“Fuck’s sake, Diego. We’ve spent all night looking for you,” Luther said, boarding the bus. He stuck his head back out of the door and yelled. “He’s in here.”

Pogo tutted loudly as he followed Luther on to the bus, frowning at Diego. He looked around, suspiciously, as if expecting to see someone hiding in a corner. His eyes fell on Five, still knocked out cold on the couch, and then flickered to the violinist asleep in the spare bunk. He headed down the bus, past Diego and into the second living space at the rear of the vehicle. The man had claimed the space as his own, preferring the hard leather couch to the soft bunks provided, and leaving them all to wonder if he ever actually slept. Gripping the door frame, he turned to face them.

“I saw nothing,” he said, pulling the sliding door closed behind him.

“Why are you just standing there?” Luther asked. He headed down the bus towards Diego, turning his shoulders sideways so as to fit his bulky frame down the cramped walkway. The man pulled off his tshirt and jumped on to the bunk above Diego’s causing the entire structure to creak. He began unlacing his boots.

“Um,” Diego glanced at the curtain to his own bunk, which was definitely twitching. He squeaked as Klaus’s arm emerged, the man’s hand gripping his thigh. “I’m… g-going to bed?”

“God,” Luther said, oblivious to the scene unfolding below him as he lay down on the top bunk and stared up at the ceiling. “You’re almost as weird as Five.” He turned his back on him, reaching a hand behind him to pull his curtain closed.

Diego batted Klaus’s hand off his thigh, and paused to kick off his shoes before following Klaus into the bunk. The man had removed his jacket and blouse and was reclining, shirtless, in the tight space. He opened his mouth to speak when Diego climbed in beside him. Shaking his head, Diego pressed a finger to the man’s lips and pointed up at the ceiling of the cramped space, indicating Luther’s presence above them.

Klaus nodded, and reached a hand up to cup Diego face. He leaned in and kissed him gently, and any thoughts Diego had been humouring of keeping his hands off the man disappeared. He wrapped his arms around the man’s naked waist and rolled over to lie astride him. In return, Klaus’s hands grappled at the hem of Diego’s shirt pushing it up so it was bunched uncomfortably under his armpits. The man’s fingers went straight to his nipple ring- Diego supposed he had seen the photos from the Rolling Stones shoot- and tugged. Diego let out a muffled groan.

“Diego?” Luther voice sounded from above them, his tone one of great discomfort.

“Yeah?” Diego rolled off Klaus, thumping the pillow in annoyance.

“Can you please not jerk off when I’m within hearing distance?”

Klaus lifted a hand to his own mouth, biting his fist to prevent himself from giggling. He winked at Diego who glowered angrily back at him.

“Sorry, man,” Diego called to Luther. He dug his hands into the space between Klaus and the mattress and then forcibly rolled the man over until he was facing the wall, holding him at arms length. “Won’t happen again.”

Klaus looked back over his shoulder at him and pouted. Diego’s hand resting on his shoulder prevented him from turning fully to face him. Diego rearranged himself on to the very edge of the bed and shook his head sternly. He kept Klaus at a safe distance until the man’s muscles relaxed beneath his hands and the soft sound of his breath lengthened and deepened. Luther’s snores sounded rhythmically from the bunk above them.

It was the dead of night when Diego awoke to an almighty snore from Luther. Still hazy from sleep, Diego sighed and moved deeper into the warmth of the bunk. His eyes flickered open. He had moved during his sleep and his chest was now pressed against Klaus’s bare back, his right arm slung over the man’s waist. Diego was hard in his sweatpants, his dick pressing insistently against the swell of the younger man’s ass. The bunk was stifling hot, and he was sweating slightly, the front of his tshirt damp against Klaus’s back. He pulled his hips back painfully slowly, so as not to wake the other man, sweat beading on his temple. Klaus remained pliant and still beneath him, silent in his sleep. In infinitesimally small movements, Diego withdrew his arm from around the man’s waist. He was nearly free of the embrace, fingers brushing Klaus’s ribs, when the man shifted, flinging an arm back to grab a handful of Diego’s ass and pull him insistently back in.

“Klaus,” Diego murmured quietly, voice gravelly from sleep. “You awake?”

The man’s hand grappled in the space between them, and then rubbed over the soft cotton covering Diego’s cock.

“I love that you think I’d do this in my sleep,” Klaus muttered. He wriggled around in the bunk, turning until they were face to face. Diego could only just make out his eyes in the darkness and could feel the man’s soft breath caressing his mouth.

Diego grunted in response, pushing the man down into the mattress as he swung his leg over and mounted him. Klaus’s erection pressed into his hip, confined in the tight leather of the man’s pants. Diego waited for the sound of Luther’s next snore and, convinced the man was asleep, rocked forwards.

Beneath him, Klaus let out a low moan and began tugging at his own waistband with trembling fingers. Taking pity on him, Diego hooked his fingers beneath the leather hem and pulled, drawing the fabric down to wrap around his thighs, pinning his legs in place. He could feel Klaus kicking out in frustration against the fabric as he leaned down for a bruising kiss. Klaus hands were immediately beneath Diego’s waistband, fingers digging into the flesh of his ass. Diego lifted his hips just far enough to pull down his sweatpants, and then flipped Klaus over to lie face down on the mattress beneath him. Before he could stop himself, he was grinding against the man in rough, stilted movements, rubbing his bare cock along the cleft of the Klaus’s ass. Klaus was making muffled noises of pleasure into the pillow beneath him and, emboldened, Diego pressed his dick between the man’s thighs, still held tightly together by the leather pants stuck around his knees.

As he thrust down, Klaus tensed and moaned, the head of Diego’s cock sliding along his perineum to butt up against his balls.

“Oh _Christ_ ,” the man whispered, voice still too loud in the silent night.

Diego clapped a hand over the man’s mouth, and then pushed two fingers in for good measure. Klaus moaned loudly around them.

“Shut up,” Diego hissed, pressing a third digit through the man’s wet lips. His dick was already dripping precome on the man’s ass and thighs, making every glide slicker than the last. He picked up his pace, thrusting against the man in rough, animalistic bursts. The frame of the bunk was beginning to creak around them.

Klaus’s hips were rolling furiously beneath him as the man rubbed his own cock into the mattress, desperately seeking friction. He whimpered around Diego’s fingers, and grabbed his wrist. Diego’s hand was pulled free from his mouth as Klaus attempted to pull it down beneath his stomach to wrap around his cock.

Diego was, frankly, too far gone to care what the other man wanted. He pulled his hand free and tangled his fingers in Klaus’s hair, pressing the man’s face down into the pillow. The man writhed and bucked beneath him as Diego ground down.

“Diego,” Klaus struggled to lift his head from the pillow, panting. “ _Please_.”

Diego came immediately at the word, bucking into the tight space between the man’s thighs and groaning as Klaus clenched, tightening the grip on his cock. Come pulsed over the man’s ass and into the space between his thighs and Diego rolled off him immediately. He fell onto his back and stared up at the ceiling of the bunk in shock, guilt creeping into his mind.

His ruminations were interrupted by the sound of Klaus’s hand working furiously over his own dick, made wet with Diego’s come. The man had rolled over to face him, and Diego could see well enough through the darkness to know that the man’s eyes were roaming his body. Setting his guilt aside, he reached down and batted the man’s hand away, gripping Klaus’s cock in a tight fist.

“Oh thank _God_ ,” Klaus said loudly, then clapped a hand over his own mouth when Diego’s hand stilled on his cock. “Sorry,” he muttered around his fingers. “Don’t stop.”

Diego beat his fist up and down the man’s length for half a dozen strokes before the man huffed out a tortured breath and coated his hand with come, hips juddering.

The man giggled softly, lifting a corner of the sheets to wipe the sticky mess from their legs and stomachs. He pressed a light kiss to the corner of Diego’s mouth and then curled into his chest. Diego fell asleep with his hand running soothingly through the man’s hair.

 

Morning dawned unusually bright, the sun glaring down into van and penetrating the flimsy curtain of the bunk to fall, almost accusingly, on Diego’s face. He groaned as he awoke, a light ache in his groin and thighs. His sweatpants were still halfway down his legs, wrapped unattractively around his knees and, despite Klaus’s attempts to clean him, his stomach was covered in a sticky coating. The man to blame was nowhere to be seen, but the smell of frying pancakes was drifting ominously down the bus.

Diego swore and pulled up his sweatpants before half falling out of the bunk in an undignified tumble. He was met with the sight of Five at the band’s cramped kitchen table, tucking merrily into a stack of pancakes. The boy raised an eyebrow at Diego’s sudden appearance.

“Oh,” Diego breathed a sigh of relief and tugged a tshirt over his head, “it’s just you.”

“Well,’ Five took a long sip of coffee. “Not _just_ me.”

Klaus stuck his head out in to the middle of the walkway and waved a spatula at Diego in greeting before stepping back into the bus’s cramped kitchenette.

“Great,” Diego scrubbed his knuckles against his temples, dragging his feet as he headed down the bus. He stole Five’s cup of coffee, ignoring the boy’s angry squawk, and thanked God that Klaus had seen fit to get fully dressed before leaving the bunk.

“Do you want blueberries in your pancakes, Diego?” Klaus asked, flipping one round expertly into the air.

“We have blueberries?” Diego asked Five, who shrugged, looking thoroughly unconcerned by the strange man’s appearance on their bus.

“I didn’t even know we had a stove.”                  

Diego turned back to Klaus. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get going. Pogo will have a fit if he finds you in here.”

A loaded silence followed the words, as Five and Klaus exchanged meaningful looks. Diego sunk down to sit at the kitchen table. “He already has, hasn’t he?”

“I think it’s ok,” Klaus said, brow furrowed. “I made him pancakes.”

“He’s made us all pancakes,” Five said, smirking. “I think Luther and Pogo are having an emergency meeting in the parking lot. I wanted another stack so I didn’t join in.”

“You could have woken me up,” Diego spat at him, setting the coffee cup forcefully down on the table.

Five raised his eyebrows and spread his arms wide in an exaggerated shrug. “I thought about it. But then I realised… I don’t care.”

…

At that moment the bus door swung open and Luther and Pogo entered, with matching sombre expressions on their faces. They made an unlikely pair: Luther tall and strapping, blond and clean-shaven; Pogo short and sturdy with weathered skin and a thick dark fuzz of beard that merged interchangeably into his hair.

Klaus hopped nervously from foot to foot at the sight of them. He slid the last of the pancakes on to a plate and slid it onto the table in front of Diego, before scurrying to the back of the bus and disappearing through the bathroom door.

Luther opened his mouth to speak, and then appeared to think better of it, falling into an awkward silence.

“Well,” Five said, glancing at the closed door to the bathroom but not bothering to lower his voice. “At least this explains why Diego’s never brought a girl back to the bus.”

“Shut up, Five,” Diego pointed the butter knife at him, glaring. “Nothing happened. He just didn’t have anywhere to sleep.”

“Oh, well that explains it,” Five said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Isn’t it just _the worst_ when you meet a homeless person and have to let them share your bed for the night?”

“Shut up, Five,” Luther said. He cleared his throat and approached Diego, shoulders tense and fist clenched. He hesitated, before reaching out a hand and slapping him amicably on the shoulder.

Diego nearly buckled under the force of the blow.

“I want you to know I’m cool with it,” Luther told him seriously, even as his cheeks turned slightly pink and he refused to meet Diego’s eye. “Although I’d rather you didn’t have sex _underneath_ me in future.”

“Or with fan _s_ ,” Pogo interrupted, his expression stern. “If Reginald were to find out about this then your contract would be in jeopardy.” He paused, delicately. “Is the boy of age, at least?”

“Oh my God," Diego buried his head in his hands and tried to mentally force down the blush that he knew was creeping up his neck. “He’s _nineteen_.”

“Nineteen and three quarters,” Five interrupted, polishing off the last of his pancakes with relish. “I already asked him. I think what they’re trying to say, Diego, is that they don’t mind you being gay.”

“I’m not gay,” Diego protested, just as the door to the bathroom swung open.

Klaus emerged with his eyeliner impeccably redone, carefully straightening the collar of his blouse and smiling nervously at the gathering. The pale skin of his thighs beneath the lacing of his pants seemed almost to glow in the sunlight falling through the bus windows. As he approached the table, he retrieved Five’s feather boa from the floor with a coo of delight and wrapped it around his neck.

“Is he gay, Klaus?” Five asked, pointing his fork at Diego.

Klaus twirled the ends of the boa in his hands. “Oh, _very_.”

Luther looked Klaus up and down. “Well that’s settled then,” he dropped down to sit on the bench beside Five. “Any chance of some more pancakes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap ^_^ Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Kliegology on Tumblr. Come hassle me if you want. I'm open to prompts!


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